


You Say the Sky is Green

by Batwynn



Series: Frostiron Short Stories [7]
Category: Frostiron - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Lies, Loki's pissed, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Thor: The Dark World, Soulmates, Tony-centric, unable to lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batwynn/pseuds/Batwynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you find your soulmate, fate has a funny way of messing with you. (Because fate's a bitch, don't let anyone convince you otherwise.)</p><p>Fate thinks it's funny to force you and your one and only to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. </p><p>It kind of sucks when you're a sarcastic, slightly-untruthful genius and your mate happens to be the God of Lies</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liar Liar

**Author's Note:**

> For arc-reactors-and-mischief
> 
> ( Soulmate Au where they can’t lie to one another.)
> 
> [This may be continued. I kind of like the concept.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Please do not share, repost, translate, or create printed copies of this fic without my express permission.

Thor held his hand as he used to when they were just children, back in a time where things were simpler and Loki welcomed such a thing.

But not any longer, now Thor was holding his hands because Loki had stumbled to his knees after their trip down the Bifrost to his precious Midgard. There was a gentleness there, yes, but it didn’t lessen the bite of the chains and shackles around his wrist. He was a prisoner, and no amount of sentiment could amend that.

“Rise, brother,” Thor spoke over his head, “today is a new day for you.”

“Today is  _another_  day for me. Do not insult me by making this out to be some grand improvement.” Loki stood and scowled at the sparkling new glass where once there was chaos and wreckage. It was a shame these mortals worked so quickly. He had not been wrong with his ant analogy, after all.

“It is a grand improvement, Loki, and if you cannot see that than you are more bitter than I previously realized.”

“Bitter?!” Loki spit, tearing his chained hands away from Thor’s grasp. “Would you not bite the supposed hand that feeds when it offers naught but rotten scraps?”

“Whoa, that’s a mouthful of Shakespeare right there,” said someone.

To which Loki turned and hissed, “no one asked you to… to… ah…”

He blinked in confusion. That was odd, worryingly so. He never lost his words, he did not earn his many titles by stuttering and drawing blanks. His eyes narrowed at the man approaching them, knowing that any moment now the pompous ass of a mortal would have some comment on Loki’s slip up.

“I thought you said he was a ‘Silver Tongue’ or a 'Lie Smith’, Thor.”

Tony Stark grinned at the thunderer, apparently not too discomforted or surprised at Loki’s sudden appearance back in their realm. Surely he had earned a little more fear than that? Had he not wrought chaos and destruction upon their city only a few months ago?

“I began those names myself,” he blurted out, seconds later bitting his lip as his eyes widened with horror.

_No… oh no. That was a secret! Norns, had he hit his head during their journey? What could possibly have possessed him to reveal that?_

Even Thor looked surprised, either at Loki’s honesty or perhaps learning that Loki started his own rumors. Ether way, it made Loki’s desire to stab him burn a little stronger.

“That’s how it’s done, isn’t it? You think all my titles were made up by the public? You can’t trust them to name you, not when they’re naming their black cats 'Blacky’ or 'Midnight’,” Stark mused, crossing his arms and looking Loki over with a critical eye. “Well, Lie Smith here is going to need to be able to change his clothes and use the little boy’s room, so those—” he pointed to the shackles,“—well have to go. Is that it for security, though? Some chicken-scratch-covered bondage gear?”

“Bondage…?” Thor’s lips twitched with a frown as he looked down at said shackles. “They are heavily spelled to lock my brother’s magic away and are required to keep him under control.”

“Uh huh… so the chain things connecting them are needed?”

“Nay, those may be removed to ease his way.”

Stark nodded, looking far too amused right now for Loki’s tastes. “Right, okay, so there’s that, and now where the hell are we sticking him?”

“You were aware that I was arriving?” Loki asked, once again startled at how straight to the point his words were.

Stark gave him a strange look, glancing at Thor before replying slowly, “Uuuuh, yeah? I was the one who—”

“Friend Stark!” Thor interrupted with a fake smile. “Shall we show him to his rooms?”

That earned him another strange look, but Stark shrugged it off and lead the way into the once familiar room.

Loki sneered at it, acid burning his throat as the memories of his defeat surfaced. There, where those new tiles lay, was where he broke his back. And over there, the place where Stark’s suit came shooting out to hit him on its way to save its owner. Loki scowled at it all, and promptly tuned out the mortal’s running commentary. If he missed anything important—he doubted he would—he could always pester them again.

The babbling man lead them down a corridor to some small room that Loki disliked. Thor looked amused as they stepped in, which mean he knew something about this room that Loki didn’t and  _that_  was not allowed.

“What is this?” He asked outright, controlling his urge to roll his eyes in frustration. Where were his  _words_ , his carefully plotted speeches, his craft?

“Elevator,” the mortal provided, jabbing a finger at a screen who’s technology was alarmingly primitive by Asgard’s standards. The 'Elevator’, however, was not something one would find on Asgard, and when it dropped from under them, Loki twitched.

“Ah… I see, it’s for lazy mortals who cannot bare the journey  _down_  the stairs.”

“Hey, it’s a really long journey! I got lost once, for days. When they found me, I had already eaten my shirt and killed my first mammoth.” The man’s face twisted a little and suddenly words were pouring out of him now, “that’s a lie, I just dislike the way my arc reactor weighs in my chest when I jog down them, and going 70 floors up sucks for anyone.”

Loki arched a brow when Stark slapped a hand over his mouth—far too late—and looked at Loki as though he had dragged the truth from him. He would be amused and poking fun, if he hadn’t been sharing the same experience since he arrived.

“Tell me,” Loki purred, “what do you think of Thor?”

The look that earned him was beautifully sharp and Loki was rather impressed at how quickly this mortal seemed to catch on.

“He’s big.”

“Is that all?”

“All i’m willing to say under duress and honestly—” he addressed Thor, “—it’s nothing bad but if I say everything in my head we’re all going to get embarrassed.”

“I do not understand…” Thor muttered, looking between them as if the answer would suddenly appear.

“Yeah, neither do I. Loki?”

Loki, started at being addressed directly, gave a small shrug. He didn’t know, and it wasn’t as if his magic was available to find out, after all.

“A spell?” Thor mused, now eyeing his brother along with Stark.

“No,” both Loki and Stark said at once. The latter glared daggers at Loki until a soft 'ping’ alerted ten of their arrival before the metal room shuddered to a halt and the doors opened.

Loki had never been so glad to be rid of such a confining space. Especially with those two in there and all the questions that were coming. He had a sneaking suspicion Stark knew more about this than he was letting on, but had carefully avoided an honest answer thanks to the wording of the question.

So, once they reached an unfortunately crowded living area—complete with one archer and his bow—Loki turned to Stark and asked in his sweetest voice, “what would cause two people who clearly dislike one another to suddenly not have the ability to lie to one another?”

“SoulmaaaaateeessssIhateyou!”

“What was that?” The Widow asked, glancing between them. “Did you just—did he just say—”

“Soulmates!?” Barton shrieked.

“What about soulmates?” The monster warily asked, backing away from Loki and heading towards the door. “I thought you didn’t have one, Tony. Why would you…? You don’t mean…  _him_?”

This was not what Loki had been expecting for an answer, especially not with a mortal. Especially not after some thousand years without a single sign of him even having a soulmate. Even Thor felt the pull years ago, someone on Midgard, and not Jane. Something, Loki assumes, the oaf has been smart enough not to tell her.

But this? This was impossible. How could he have forgotten about the lies?

“I felt no pull when last we met,” he said, ignoring the commotion from the others. Someone seemed to be speaking to a disembodied voice, while the red-head ushered both the archer and that beast from the room. Stark, for all intensive purposes, was strangely calm. In fact, he too was ignoring the rest of his team, sidling up to him and leaning in close.

“I did,” he muttered, meeting Loki’s eye.

“So everything you said—we said…”

“Wasn’t a lie,” Tony finished, “apparently you really believed all that shit.”

Loki wrinkled his nose, the temptation to stab the man and run conflicting with his basic need to be closer to him.

“I was convinced by someone with a much more clever tongue than my own, but yes, I  _believed._ ”

Stark stared and stared at him, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he breathed out sharply. “Wow, you really  _did,_ huh? That… sucks, I guess. I would… Oh jesus, we’re really soulmates. What does that even mean? What does that include? Do I get bag of cats in the package? Is sanity a part of this complete breakfast?”

“Yes, I know not, me… for eternity, no, and absolutely not.”

The man was grinning by the time Loki’s mouth stopped running away from him, and his glare did nothing to weaken the humor in Stark’s eyes.

“Okay, before Fury shows up and locks us both away for conspiring against freedom, what did you think of me back then?”

“You are short.”

“Is that all?”

“All I am willing to say under duress.”

“I think I like you,” Stark admitted, and had the decency to look as horrified as Loki felt.

“I refuse to speak from now on,” was all he said before his shut his mouth tightly and quite literally, held his tongue.

* * *

 

“Are you mother-fucking kidding me?”

“No, sir, this is no joke,” Steve explained with an almost constipated expression on his face. “Banner would confirm it if he could manage to get close enough to Loki without getting very, very angry.”

“And Stark?”

“He’s being oddly quite, it’s kind of scaring me.”

“Shut up, Steve, your hair scares me.”

“Ah, much better,” the solider joked, and stepped aside to avoid a punch.

“If both of you could grow up and join the rest of us adults,” Fury began in his 'tolerant’ voice, “than maybe we can discuss the very real problem called Tony Stark and Loki are fuckin’ soulmates.”

Tony grimaced, and went quiet again. So far, pretending nothing had happened and today was a normal Tuesday, with no gods or villains or soul mates, was really working for him. That is, until Steve Tattle-Tale Rogers just  _had_  to call Fury and Clint came back with explosive arrows, and Thor started getting angry and the sky got all dark, and Loki, oh yeah, he  _hid_  behind Tony while complaining that Tony, 'wasn’t tall enough for sufficient shielding.’

Yeah, pretending wasn’t going to cut it.

“Are you listening to me, Stark?”

“No.”

That little vein in Fury’s forehead throbbed. “I thought you only had to tell the truth to your darling Loki.”

Tony grinned at him in the way an animal bares its teeth before tearing your throat out. “Nicky, you know I could never lie to you.”

Fury was unimpressed, as usual, and looked to Steve for answers. “Well?”

“It appears he’s in one of his moods.”

“Yeah, hi—” Tony waved at them, “—soulmate, Loki? What kind of fucking mood  _should_  I be in?”

“A cooperative one,” Fury shot back, standing up from his desk and coming around to glare down his nose at Tony. “You want this to go away, we want this to go away. So explain to me, properly this time, when did you feel the damn pull?”

Tony stuffed his hands into his pockets to hide the way his nails bit into his palms. It was not a good subject for him, something he and Pepper never broached until it was too late and things were falling apart. They still were falling apart, and this thing with Loki would be the final nail in the coffin.

“A little over a year ago…”

“When?”

Tony’s eyes slid to the floor as he gritted out, “just about the same time you guys noticed a certain unidentified object landing in New Mexico.”

“So you felt it when Thor came to earth? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Tony shrugged. It didn’t make any sense to him either, at least, not until now. “Loki obviously paid a visit, or maybe Thor was close enough to him that I sensed him without Loki even being present. The thing is,” he looked up and gave the director a rueful smile, “ I was kind of cleaning up Stark Expo at the time. I didn’t even realize what it was until…”

“Until what?” Fury prompted.

“Have either of you been mated?”

Fury looked like he would rather beat a thousand puppies to death than answer that question and Steve, well, he looked uncomfortable and sad.

“Huh, I’ll take that as a 'no’ and tell you what it’s like, then.” Tony moved away from them, pacing around the chairs so he didn’t have to look them in the eye while he explained how life found one more way to fuck him over.

“I had just kissed Pepper, you know, right after the Expo blew up. It was magical, it felt good, I thought it was  _right_. Then, not even a week later, I feel the pull and it’s not her. It’s not  _her_ …” He trailed off, staring at the wall past their heads. “Later that day, she touches me. It’s no big deal, really, just a hug and a kiss on my cheek like we were getting ready for our first date and maybe we were but… it was horrible. I can’t describe the level of disgust I felt from something as simple as a damn hug.”

“Can you image that?” He asked softly. “Can you imagine being turned cold by the touch of someone you cared about more than… It… it just sucked. It still sucks, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Steve opened his mouth and stared to apologize like he could take responsibility for that, and Tony shut him down with a sharp laugh. “Save it, there’s nothing you can do about soulmates, which means this entire conversation is redundant. You can’t change who my mate is, and neither can I. Loki’s here to stay, and that’s that.”

* * *

Loki had been in the middle of a somewhat serious plan to chew off his own hands and escape to the deep woods of the north when Stark showed up in his cell.

They had locked him away in a small room, not glass this time, and no word had come as to why or what for or when he would be returned to his more extravagant prison, the tower.

“Hello, Soulmate.”

“I would kill you.”

“It’s nice that you’re honest with me,” Stark teased, sitting down right on the floor with him and closing his eyes as he leaned against the wall. “I’m being sarcastic—and for fucks sake, you ruin everything for me. Now my sarcasm? What good is sarcasm if i’m forced to explain that i’m bring facetious?”

“Oh, you long, suffering man,” Loki sneered, and was surprised that he was able to say that without explanation. Did that mean it was not a lie, or that he actually believed it?

“Yeah, well, you will be suffering soon enough, 'Lie Smith’.”

“I would rather not speak than be honest with a flea like you.” Loki’s mouth opened to amend his words, and he forced it shut with a snap, biting down into his lip to keep silent. Luckily enough, Stark remained silent as well, and regardless of how utterly  _wrong_  this entire situation was, Loki felt oddly complete. Simply sitting in silence with a man he knew little of, and it felt right. But there was something he did wish to know before they began the rest of their complicated lives.

Turning his head to study the mortal bedside him, still seated with closed eyes, loki inquired, “I never felt the pull towards you… why?”

“Probably too many cats in your head, by which I mean you’re nuts, I mean, I think you’ve had enough things attempting to control you—including yourself—that you didn’t even notice it.” The man tilted his head towards him and cracked his eyes open. “Do you feel it now?”

“…Yes, unfor-unf-unfort-un… ah.”

Stark flashed a smile that didn’t provide comfort to Loki at all, and went back to closing his eyes and sitting next to him in silence. It was confusing behavior, especially for a man who he had once attempted to kill. Did he really no longer intimidate Stark? Did he ever? How infuriating.

“You do realize that if I die, you will too?” He asked as if reading Loki’s mind, not moving a muscle from his meditation pose.

“Ah, perhaps I don’t care,” and  _that_  was a painful truth.

“You should, it’s not nice and quick, it’s slow, like a cancer.”

“I do not  _care_.”

“Yeah… neither do I,” Stark admitted, opening his eyes once more to stare ahead at nothing. “Wow… Kind of hard to lie to yourself like this. I wasn’t aware I was suicidal, or, at least I pretended I wasn’t. Can we talk about something else?”

“When did you know?” Loki asked, still studying the man before him.

“Popular question of the day, and it was when Thor came for a visit back in New Mexico.”

“Ah… my first time on Midgard during your life time…I suppose that makes sense.”

Stark looked puzzled, perhaps at something he said, and then his eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, turning slowly to gape at Loki. “You’ve been waiting for, what? Thousands of years?”

“Indeed.”

“You long, suffering god… literally.”

Loki held his gaze for a long time after that, because once again, a lie he told himself was disputed by the lips of one who shared his soul. This mortal was it, the only thing in his life he could call his own, and he did not even want this. He had grown past the stages of confusion, hurt, all his desires for a mate. He had long since accepted that he would never find them, that perhaps they were already dead.

And here he was, a fragile human, an unknown veritable with a high enough level of intelligence to make him dangerous and exciting, and also burdened with the most ridiculous stature.

It was unfortunate.   
It was impossible.

“I think I may like you,” he admitted, and had the decency to smile back when Stark gave him the first honest grin since they met.


	2. Cat's Got Your Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even sure...

 

It was undeniable, he was going to  _slaughter_  him. 

 

No, he was going to hang him upside down and skin him from his toes to his scalp,  _then_  slaughter him.

 

“Darling, you look positively murderous today,” Stark sang out as he entered the kitchen, heading directly for the coffee device. 

 

No, wait, he was going to boil him in oil, or freeze him and break him apart piece by piece, he could do that. 

 

“Coffee?”

 

_I’ll drown you in it._

 

“Yes,” Loki gritted out without his permission, once again. His eyes settled on the most hated thing he had ever encountered in his long existence, and he forced himself not to babble out loud about how  _that_  was a lie. He couldn’t hate him, it was apparently a ‘biological imperative’ that he did not dislike his soulmate. 

 

He could still hate the Norns for bringing them together. 

 

One steaming cup of coffee, made just the way Loki had learned to enjoy it, slid to a stop in front of him. A single drop of the brown liquid hit the counter and Loki directed all his hatred at that, instead.

 

“No really,” Stark said as he slipped onto the stool next to Loki, “who are you planning on killing and can I watch?" 

 

That forced a smile out of him as Loki lifted his gaze to stare down at the shorter man. They had been screened, stabbed with needles, scanned, contained, and eventually broken out of 'jail’ by Thor and, surprisingly, the beast, before coming here to the tower as per their previous plans. According to Stark, who couldn’t lie, after all, this entire set up had been his idea. He was the one who suggested to Thor that Loki come to Midgard to 'pay his dues’, something the bond between them seemed to disagree on. Stark ended up amending it to, 'more like clean your shit up and stop moping around in a cell.' 

 

To say they were getting along would be a lie, as long as anyone but Stark asked. Loki found himself lying almost obsessively to everyone else he met, simply because fate forced his tongue to speak truths to one mortal. He knew was overcompensating, but…

 

But he  _hated_  it, he hated all things against his will. Not only was it in his nature to rebel, it was also not good sense for anyone building a so-called relationship to be fully honest with one another. Lies were the basis of trust, and flattery the gentle breeze to fan the flames. Gentle, kind lies were important. How in the Nine did anyone get along with their soulmates?

 

"You,” he finally admitted, “so I must apologize, but you will not be able to view the murder." 

 

"Thank you for saving my poor eyes from such a horrible thing as my death, honestly, i’m touched.”

 

Loki was taken aback by his words, surprised that he was not forced to amend them or state something else as he did with most of his sarcasm. Although, at this point Loki felt he really should not be startled by the man’s honestly anymore. This was a reoccurring theme between them, utter shock at what the other honestly felt or thought. It was not all unpleasant things, Loki must admit, but still unnerving all the same.

 

“You… are strangely comfortable with all this, why?”

 

“Just because I can’t lie to you with my mouth doesn’t mean I can’t with my face." 

 

"Ah, a pretense of calm, then.” Loki narrowed his eyes, seeking the crack in the man’s facade. He scowled when he found none, and continued, “should I be concerned that my mate is hiding things from me?" 

 

Stark snorted into his cup of coffee and shook his head in disbelief. "That’s rich, coming from you.”

 

“I cannot lie." 

 

The inventor’s smirk dropped, his eyes growing thoughtful. "No… I guess you can’t. Are you worried? You do know I won’t, like, suddenly lock you up in SHIELD or sell your body to science, right?”

 

“Ah, I suppose I do now that you have spoken of it.” Stark gave him a look and he added with a smirk of his own, “I had not considered such possibilities when you told me you orchestrated this plan of yours to bring me here, but that does not mean I trust you or even wish to trust you.”

 

Shrugging, Stark plopped his cup down and started to fidget with it.   After about the tenth time of him rattling it against the counter, Loki’s hand shot out to free it from his hand. There was a faint shock as their fingers brushed, quickly followed up by an intense  _need_  to touch him again. 

 

The inventor let slip a small gasp, his hand was already moving towards Loki’s own before he could move away. Warm, calloused fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of Loki’s wrist and closed over it gently. His breath hitched, and every partial of his being honed in on that one, small contact with his soulmate. 

 

The long silence was finally broken by a whispered,“… wow." 

 

"Ah… I suppose… This is…”

 

“Is that normal?” The man questioned breathlessly, his thumb brushing across Loki’s leaping pulse. 

 

“I believe so, I have never experienced this before, obviously." 

 

"Yeah, no, I think you only get one soulmate." 

 

"You are  _mine_." 

 

Loki blinked, surprised to find those words coming from his own mouth. His eyes darted to the left, making note of Stark’s surprised—no, pleased expression. Neither of them removed their hands, even as Loki turned away to avoid his gaze and hide his traitorous pink cheeks.

 

"You're—”

 

“Are you guys actually  _holding hands_? I might cry.” Clint paused and added in a much more serous tone, “or vomit. I think the latter." 

 

"Shove it up your ass, we’re soulmates, apparently this is normal." 

 

Clint shrugged and grabbed himself a mug to pour coffee into. Loki’s lips twitched with a hint of smile when he noted the archer making a point of never turning his back on Loki.

 

"I wouldn’t know,” he was saying to Stark, pose casual against the counter. “I’ve never felt the pull." 

 

"Really? That’s not good.”

 

“I’ll live, I have so far." 

 

"That’s what I thought,” Stark muttered, glancing at Loki.

 

He could not disagree, not that he would say so out loud. Or be  _forced_  to say so. But having gone his entire life without the pull, without a mate, and to discover that a simple touch of the wrist felt like fire and lighting and  _life_? One could not miss what they never had, and now that he had it, he would never let this go, never. 

 

“Gross, now it’s goo-goo eyes, guys, don’t do this in the kitchen, some people want to eat." 

 

” _Oh_?“ Loki purred, turning to fix his not remotely 'goo-goo’ eyes on the archer. "I was feeling a might pecking myself." 

 

Beside him, Stark shifted and turned as well, marching Loki’s posture perfectly. "What do you think, honey, want some  _fried chicken?_ " 

 

Clint’s coffee cup stilled about half way to his mouth, his eyes growing wider and wider as he looked between the two of them.

 

"You—you’ve corrupted him!”

 

“I believe you are wrong." 

 

"He looks like he’s going to eat me! Tony, no, Clint friend,” he said slowly, patting his chest with a free hand. “Me Clint, you Tony." 

 

"On second thought, i’m thinking he’s too stringy to eat,” Stark commented, and just behind the door, someone snorted. 

 

“Hey!" 

 

"Hey yourself, Clint,” came the Widow’s voice as she slipped around the corner to watch the scene. “You know better than to mess with soulmates while they’re bonding and you  _should_  know better than to mess with these two, in particular." 

 

"Awww no… They aren’t really gonna eat me, right?" 

 

Loki made a face that clearly declared, 'anything but’ and stood to escape as he always did when more than one Avenger entered the room. He didn’t trust them, and even if he could still fight them, he didn’t want to take the risk while his magic was gone. Unexpectedly—or perhaps not—Stark rose beside him and shuffled closer, looking ready to leave.

 

"You’re coming with me?" 

 

The man made a face, brushed their hands together in a way that sent sparks of light through Loki’s body once again, and muttered a quiet, "yes." 

 

Something warm pooled in Loki’s chest as he flashed a nervous smile and lead their way out of the room. They did not break eye contact once, even as the archer yelled out behind them, "get a room!" 

 

* * *

What was it Natasha said? 'Bonding’? 

 

Yeah, that’s what they were doing, bonding. Totally not rubbing their bodies together like two cats in heat and  _oh my god that’s exactly what they were._  


 

"This… this feels good,” he grumbled, slightly annoyed at his own admittance. Especially one so breathless and simple minded. 

But it did feel good, really good, way too good. 

 

The god beside him shuddered, and even as he attempted to silence himself, a moan of agreement escaped his lips and he nodded. 

 

They had made it up to Tony’s floor before they reached the point where just hands just weren’t going to cut it anymore. They made it to the living room carpet before the god pounced on him and proceeded to… well, snuggle into Tony. What was set out to be a laugh turned into a pleased groan pretty quickly after that, and he really didn’t care because it felt fucking good. 

 

“This is… you have no idea how wrong this felt before you… shit, I don’t even know what i’m saying." 

 

"The truth,” Loki mumbled into his neck, cold lips just brushing against the skin there. Some insane part of Tony’s mind desperately wanted to warm those lips up the only and best way he knew how. But the more rational side reminded him that he was snuggling a thousand year old murderer on his carpet. He felt like he should apologize to his mother’s memory, if he believed in that sort of crap, which he didn’t, and he wasn’t the apologetic type so fuck it.

 

“Not sorry,” bubbled forth and when Loki shifted to raise an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “Answering my own thoughts, ignore me, it’s going to happen pretty often.”

 

“Talking to yourself is commonly associated with madness, Stark.”

 

“No one ever said I was sane and isn’t talking in third person worse?” He posed, shifting his body to lay on his side so he could see Loki better. “Speaking of, have you met Doom? I think you guys would hit it off, he’s a sack of cats, magic-using, metal-abusing man like yourself. NotthatIthinkyou'reasackofcats for fucks sake!" 

 

Loki giggled. That’s right,  _giggled_. He also started to say something but Tony kind of, sort of interrupted him by kissing him. 

 

The god went completely stiff in his arms, and before Tony could even finish said kiss to his liking, pushed him away. Something that ended with Tony hissing in both surprise and pain, because of course Loki pushed on his chest and of course the guy was a god and super strong and having your arc reactor shoved into your esophagus really fucking hurt. 

 

"What are you doing?!” Loki snarled, pushing himself up from the floor to glare down at him.

 

Tony wanted to answer, he did, so he tried a, “kissing you,” that came out more like a, “kissshing,” and Loki was looking like he was ready to leave now.

 

“I allowed you close to my person,” the god began, standing up and dusting himself off, “and you do this? It does not matter how attractive… How… skít!" 

 

Tony would laugh at his expression, if he could, but he was kind of drowning on land right now so he settled with a wheezy grin that served to piss Loki off all the more.

 

"You will never ki—you will not—I don’t want—Norns losa mig úr þessari helvítis!” He hissed, running both hands through his hair in an attempt, Tony thought, to hide his faintly blushing cheeks. Loki’s hands dropped, so  maybe not, and he stared at Tony doing his fish impression on the floor. “You… what’s wrong with you?" 

 

Tony shakes his head and let’s it fall back against the floor with a thunk. It was no big deal, really, he just needed a few seconds—minutes to catch his breath. So, he gave Loki a thumbs up, which was ignored, and blinked up owlishly when the god knelt beside him once again.

 

 It was the concern that surprised him, Loki’s features twisting into an worrying expression that Tony had never seen before. Even the gentle way Loki’s hands brushed across his chest didn’t have him jumping to get away. No one could do that without Tony getting that creeping tension under his skin, not since Obi. But,  apparently, Loki was different, which was ridiculous because Loki had thrown him out a damn window before, tried to take control of him, and oh yeah, killed a lot of people. What’s there to trust? 

 

"Breathe in slowly,” Loki instructed, keeping his hand just under the reactor. He gave a small smile—like a teacher instructing a kid how to read or something—and suddenly, “i’m sorry for hurting you,” came out and Tony trusted him 100%. Against his  _will_ , but there it was.

 

He also breathed, finally, and the little circles Loki’s fingers ran against what was left of his sternum worked wonders. 

 

“I… kiss… yeah… Sorry, maybe." 

 

"Not,” he added with a breathless laugh, earning himself a sulky pout from the god. “Sorry but not sorry, I just got pulled in, body moved on its—okay, not all on its own, but you should have seen your lips, very tempting, and you know I can’t lie." 

 

Loki’s hands came away from his body when he sat back on his heels, that soft expression growing hard. "This does not mean I forgive you for assaulting me because I cannot defend myself." 

 

"Jesus, that’s totally not why I did it. I wasn’t thinking, 'oh yeah, Loki can’t turn me into lobster dinner, let’s kiss this bastard’." 

 

"I’m sure your reasoning was  _much_  improved from that,” Loki sneered, biting his lip to keep the truth from ruining his sarcastic moment. 

 

Tony sat up so he was almost face to face with Loki. He was still taller than him, the leggy bastard, so Tony had a future of looking up ahead of him. Unless…

 

“Listen,” he drawled, rising up on his knees so that he was actually face to face, “we are soulmates, and that usually means at some point or another we are going to get closer, like kissing closer.”

 

“That does not mean—”

 

“That I can suddenly kiss you and it’s all fine and dandy? I know, but what i’m saying is, is that… it’s an impulse. Just like our need to touch and be close.” He provided physical proof of his case by leaning into Loki’s body again. He didn’t smirk or tease like he could have when Loki’s eyes fluttered closed on contact. Who was he to judge? He felt it too. 

 

After a moment, Loki sighed, “I dislike this… or, rather, I enjoy it but dislike being forced to enjoy it." 

 

"You and me both. But I… I can’t promise I won’t kiss you again." 

 

"I don't—perhaps…” Loki trailed off with a grimace, eyes opening and arms folding around him to press their bodies closer. “I find I cannot refuse." 

 

"Do you want me to?” Tony asked, tipping his head tithe side and brushing their noses together in an affectionate way that he used to be able to stand with Pepper. It never felt so pleasing to him before, just bumping noses.

 

Fucking soulmates. 

 

“I truly…” Loki looked completely conflicted about it, and knowing their bond, was probably screaming 'no!’ in his head and swallowing the 'yes’ threatening to come out. So, Tony decided to risk it, because if there was even a small amount of 'yes’ inside Loki, he was going to take it. A whole life was a long time to wait for a soulmate when most people found theirs back in their teens, and now that he was here, Tony was sure as hell going to enjoy it.

 

“Let me just… try this again,” he whispered, tilting Loki’s head up to kiss those pink lips one more time. The god tensed up, just like last time, but after a solid minute of Tony kissing unresponsive lips, Loki suddenly melted in his arms. 

 

With a hungry, sad sound, Loki pressed into the kiss, opening his mouth to give and accept his present. Tony’s mewl of a response seemed to only fuel him further, and three minutes later, Tony found himself on his back again, cold hands crawling up his shirt while a hot tongue tried to crawl down his throat. 

 

When Loki finally decided to give him some air, Tony gazed up at him, fixated on the transformation that God had gone through. His hair was framing his face, all six lbs of it that, yes, Tony had been carting his hands through, because it was wonderful— _shut up_. His lips were red from where Tony had discovered Loki enjoying a few rougher aspects of kissing like oh, you know, biting. Loki’s cheeks were also pretty tinged pink at this point, but his eyes—his eyes were so sharp and vivid, Tony wasn’t sure if he was angry at him, or really turned on. 

 

Tony was turned on, something he had shared with Loki with a tiny roll of his hips. The god seemed to also be interested, if the tight leather could attest for anything. But still, the unfamiliarity between them left just enough space for doubt and fear. 

 

“You look god-damn beautiful,” Tony’s mouth decided to reveal, and this time his cheeks turned pink. “Shit, not what I meant to say, or, it was but not what I had in mind, or, fuck it, you do, so  _there_." 

 

"You, as well,” Loki replied much easier than him, and suddenly Tony was blinded by the most brilliant smile, like, ever. All teeth, except for where it met his eyes and flecks of green gave Tony a new definition for 'happy’. 

 

Oh yeah, he was in trouble. 

 

So was Loki. 

 

“Now that we are done expression our bond, shall we go find that archer of yours and do something terrible to him?”

 

“I think I’ve got a canister of Liquid Nitrogen we can use.”

 

“And that does what?”

 

“Well, let’s just say his room will be as cold and broken as his little bird heart once we find his Beanie Baby collection." 

 

Loki sat up with a hum of delight, pulling Tony up along with him. "I was thinking something to do with pins and fire ants, but since you have this device on hand…" 

 

Tony chuckled, reaching out to run his hand through the dark strands one more time.

 

"Yeah,” he said with a grin, “I definitely think I like you." 


End file.
